


four letter words

by sapientivore



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapientivore/pseuds/sapientivore





	four letter words

His knuckles are turning white on the handlebars as he rides away from the helipad. BJ knows he should be happy everyone's going home, but damned if he doesn't already miss the hell out of his friends. Well, mostly one in particular. The bike's wheels almost get out from under him a few times as thoughts of his beautiful, mad best friend consume him. He knows they'll meet again, that they're going to take every excuse they damn well can (and some they can't) to see each other; but that doesn't make his fingers ache any less for the feel of Hawkeye's stardusted hair, for the warm weight of his head on his lap as BJ pets him like a cat. It doesn't make his soul feel any less like it's being stretched to its limit.

Impulsively, he digs his foot into the ground while manipulating the brakes, skidding around to get one last look at the man who's become such a vital part of his life. Settling his weight back on the seat, he gazes fondly at Hawkeye, his eyes crinkling at the corners as the man immediately starts waving - of course, he hadn't taken his eyes off BJ for a second.

He doesn't understand it when it happens. He can't. One second he's drinking in the sight of his best friend, the next moment all he can process is a booming noise, a limp arm, and far, far too much red.

He stumbles off the bike, falling face first into Korea. He’s not even a _person_ anymore, just a wave of incoherent emotion blindly running towards the falling copter. Metal shrieks and leaves part, and the craft manages a surprisingly graceful landing. He reaches the top of the hill, tripping over his own lovingly ordered rocks. A delicate spray of red brings him to a screeching halt. Blood, today. Blood, here. His blood. On _his_  goodbye. ’ _What the FUCK, Hawk?!?’_ he yells as he resumes his flight. His brain snapping into emotions that make sense, emotions he can handle. _’Could you seriously not spend five seconds without getting hurt?’_

Fury rages through his veins, bracing him against what he knows he’s about to face. The future he’s about to lose. He races around to the passenger side, grasping that thin limp hand to his chest and sinking to his knees. The man in front of him almost looks asleep, but he knows better. He knows not to look at the ruin that must have established itself on the other side of his head. He caresses Hawkeye’s cheek with the back of his fingers, delicately - as though he might fall apart. Almost simultaneously, he notices two things.

He feels the whisper of his friend’s breath on his hand, and he realizes that the pilot no longer has a head. Luminous blue eyes meet his as he exhales, looking into them, and the owner croaks, ‘Buy me a drink?’


End file.
